


life after life, age after age (forever)

by thatiranianphantom (FrraFee)



Category: Elyza Lex (Fanverse), Fear the Walking Dead (TV), QTWD, The 100 (TV), queer the walking dead
Genre: F/F, I am in the sin bin, I am putting myself in the sin bin, i am trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9696248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrraFee/pseuds/thatiranianphantom
Summary: It would figure.You think you should have expected it.Not only was she right about reincarnation, you just happen to be reincarnated into another fucking apocalypse.





	1. elyza

**Author's Note:**

> I cracked because Elyza Lex is my lifeblood.

 

**_And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you._ **

 

* * *

 

 

It would figure.

 

You think you should have expected it.

 

Not only was she right about reincarnation, you just happen to be reincarnated into another fucking apocalypse.

 

_Mockery’s not the product of a strong mind._

 

(One of the first things you notice about this new you is you swear far more often. You’re oddly proud of it, and you curse loudly and proudly, the same way this new you does everything else).

 

And in this apocalypse, it’s zombies and not the sci-fi movie that the last one had you in. In a way, it makes it easier. You feel no shame, no remorse when you kill what you’ve come to call “walkers” after the first few times. They aren’t human. They are a clear enemy. On days when you need particular motivation, you imagine they stand between you and her.

 

Because she’s alive in this universe, and that’s all you need to make your home here.

 

_In peace, may you leave the shore._

 

* * *

 

 

You’re alone in this universe.

 

Elyza Lex, the new you, isn’t supposed to care, but the tiny bit of the old you that exists inside her sometimes longs for her mother.

 

It’s just you, and while you’re a badass who shouldn’t need anyone anyway, she’s out there now. And she could be hurt, or in trouble, or just lonely, and you can’t leave her like that.

 

(And you can’t be here without her).

 

So you set off to find her.

 

Because apparently, as fucked up as this universe is, it’s giving you another chance to find her, and that is something you won’t waste.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You set off on your motorcycle, guns pressed to your sides, and move from town to town, her face in your mind.

 

You don’t know her name, you don’t know where she is, but she’s alive. You can feel it.

 

That thought alone gets you through many a night.

 

You’re still connected. You know she can feel it too.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It takes two months, hordes of dead walkers, and a few nights of tears you’ll never admit to, even to yourself.

 

But as it turns out, you run into her quite by accident.

 

You’d stopped for a supply run at a truck stop gas station. They had beer. Warm, but beer. Your stomach growls in anticipation.

 

So it’s within the realm of possibility that you may have let your guard down. For a second at most, but it’s enough.

 

You don’t hear the wet growl until it’s much too late, and the walker has you pressed to the ground, its fowl breath in your face.

 

It seems insane that this is how it ends, _already_ , but it seems this is it.

 

You close your eyes and wait for death, and then there’s a scuffling sound, and the walker screaming as it dies (again).

 

And when your eyes slowly open, a ring of light surrounds her head. You think that’s probably appropriate, that she’s an actual angel.

 

* * *

 

 

It lasts all of two minutes, while she pulls you to your feet, and you throw your arms around her, bury your face in her neck, breathe in her scent.

 

That’s your first sign. She smells different. Not like the one you knew.

 

And then her arms are shoving you away and of course this is how it goes.

 

The new you should have expected it, but your heart still drops to your stomach at the look on her face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She doesn’t know you.

 

She saved you from the walkers, and she’s alone and she snarks at you and you are grateful for it because you’ll take anything from her.

 

No, you don’t cry.

 

You are Elyza Lex, badass zombie fighter, and when Elyza Lex is confronted with the girl she switched universes for looking at her with such _coldness_ , Elyza Lex makes a joke, flirts, shows no hurt.

 

And from within her, Clarke Griffin cries.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You take her home with you, because how could you not?

 

It’s Lexa, but it’s not Lexa.

 

Alicia Clark is a moody teenager who answers in eye rolls and sharp retorts and barely knows how to wield a baseball bat.

 

She’s so unlike Lexa that it twists a knife into your gut.

 

(That stirs up another memory, of a boy called Finn who you might have loved, if the world had been different)

 

She doesn’t trust you. She scowls at you and refuses to speak and that hurts but everything hurts nowadays.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You remember.

 

You remember everything.

 

You remember falling to earth, you remember meeting her, and with more clarity than anything else, you remember her dying in your arms.

 

 _I can fix you_.

 

You couldn’t.

 

Maybe you can here.

 

Here, where she looks at you with those same green eyes, the same ones that were your salvation too many times to count, and they are blank.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

You don’t fight it, because Le-Alicia is _happy_. As happy as she can be, given the zombie apocalypse, and the whole on-the-run thing.

 

There’s a lightness to her that her double was never allowed to carry.

 

The weight of thousands of lives don’t rest on her shoulders.

 

She doesn’t wake up with nightmares about all the lives she’s taken.

 

She doesn’t assume she’ll die at any time.

 

She has a family (missing as they are), and friends.

 

And if Clarke can’t have her Lexa, then Elyza can make sure Alicia is happy.

 

And maybe that’ll be enough.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

You get to know her, those first few weeks. You find out that underneath all that hostility, she’s a scared teenager. Just a kid in a world that always seems to make her grow up too fast.

 

You’re alike in that way.

 

One day, during a supply run, she saves you a pack of cigarettes.

 

“Thanks, doll,” you say as you light one up.

 

She scowls, but it doesn’t hold quite the ferocity it used to. “Can’t believe I’m helping you kill yourself.”

 

 “Ah,” you wink at her. “If only I had some pretty girl to stay alive for.”

 

She looks away with a groan but you catch the tint of a blush on her cheeks.

 

She tolerates your incessant flirting more and more, and you keep doing it, because this new you is getting harder and harder to separate from the old you, but while Clarke wore her feelings on her sleeve, Elyza never had that luxury.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She passes her fingers over the marks on her arm multiple times a day, until you finally ask.

 

You’re probably not prepared for the answer.

 

 _My boyfriend drew it_.

 

The words hurt, but you remember that everything hurts nowadays and you’re starting to think it may always.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You learn about this new Lexa quickly. She’s a loner, just like the old one was. Smart, calculating, pragmatic.

 

It comforts you to know the two are not so different as you may have once though.

 

She slowly allows you to get to know her. She’s still hostile and guarded and you have no earthly clue what she thinks of you. But then, you were never really sure with Lexa either.

 

One day, you sit by your stolen motorcycle, tinkering with the engine, when she comes of her own volition and sits beside you.

 

“Why were you alone?” she asks without preamble.

 

“What?”

 

“When we met. You were never looking for anyone. No family, friends, just you. Why?”

  
The smile you give her does nothing to mask the sadness, the loneliness the question invokes, and she sees that, you know.

 

Still, Elyza Lex doesn’t break. You both know that too.

 

“Not many like me, cupcake,” you turn your attention back to the bike.

 

There’s long moments of silence before you hear her voice.

 

“I do.”

 

“You do what?”

 

She hesitates, toeing at the floor. “I like you.”

 

For such a little comment, it feels like a spectacular win.

 

“You do?”

 

She nods. Her cheeks flush red and it’s adorable. Lexa would never have worn such an expression.

 

“You’re smart. And you’re pretty and brave and it just feels kind of…right. To know you.”

 

The words send warmth flooding through you.

 

_Maybe she remembers, even just a little bit._

 

But you can’t say that. You’re not Clarke, you’re Elyza, and that is not what Elyza would say.

 

“You just call me pretty, lovey?”

 

She scoffs, mutters something about _why do I bother_ , and the moment is gone, but the smile on your face as you go back to work is genuine.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

One night, you lay silently on the floor of yet another abandoned house while Alicia takes the bed, lost in a dream.

  
(You’re never really sure if it’s a dream or a nightmare, because you can see her, your Lexa, and she smiles and she holds you and she always, _always_ dies.)

 

This time it’s from a sword that ran clean through her. You have had too many of these, enough to come to just enough to muffle the shout of _Lexa_ , enough to hide the tears that slip down your cheeks.

 

Not enough to fool her, anymore, though, because the next thing you know, there’s a hand pulling at yours and it’s leading you to the bed and lying you down and there are green eyes looking at you and a soft hand brushes the tears from your cheeks.

 

 _You won’t be protecting anyone exhausted and delirious._ The gentle tone belies the harsh words.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next morning, it comes out of nowhere.

 

“Who’s Lexa?” she asks, and you freeze.

 

“What?”

 

She shrugs.

 

“You call out for Lexa every night. You cry every night. You think I don’t notice.”

 

The last one is an accusation and you know it.

 

“Lexa was…” _you you you you,_ your mind screams.

 

“She was special.”

 

You feel her fingers gently curl around yours, to your great shock, and it should feel amazing, it should be, but she doesn’t remember, and the need for Lexa physically burns.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it, but the words bring you no comfort.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

On your third week together, one week before you find her family, you nearly die again.

 

It’s not that that is so uncommon, really. It’s just a walker who managed to pin you, its teeth centimeters from your neck.  And she saves you in time. She remembers everything you taught her about shooting, and she saves you.

 

Just like the first time, she tugs you to your feet.

 

Like every time, you brush it off with a _thanks, gorgeous._

 

Unlike any time, she thrusts herself at you and seals her lips to yours.

 

You stay pressed to her for god only knows how long, but it’s not long enough.

 

“ _Don’t you dare do that again,”_ she rasps, punctuating each word with a kiss.

 

You smile, and it’s easy for once, as your heart sings in your chest and your fingers clutch her.

 

“Aw, cupcake. If I’d have known that was all it took to get me some action, I’d have almost died on a more regular basis.”

 

She growls and yanks you closer and your pulse thrums so loudly you’re shocked she doesn’t hear it.

 

“Shut up, Elyza,” she gasps, and it’s almost perfect.

 

Almost.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It starts just like that. Simple, as it could never have been when you were Clarke and Lexa.

 

She tastes just like you remember, so warm and soft and _Lexa._

Only she’s not Lexa, and that tiny fact is the only dark spot in your mind when you are together.

 

You try your very best not to think about it, but some days, Clarke Griffin rages from inside you.

 

You’re starting to think it’ll always be that way, and people weren’t meant to be two at once.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You find her family a week later, and she’s thrilled, ecstatic.

 

And her happiness is your happiness, so you’re thrilled too.

 

Madison Clark, however, is not.

 

Oh, of course she’s happy to have her daughter back. But you see the loose strings of a frayed relationship in their interaction, despite Alicia’s palpable relief at seeing her family again.

 

Madison Clark has been hardened by the world, you’d see it anywhere. Even before the walkers, she had to adapt. Alicia’s dad is gone, her brother is an addict, and she has always felt she had to hold the family together. Her story is written all over her face.

 

That means, you know, that she leaves no room for those that aren’t absolutely necessary.

 

You’re not necessary to her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She tolerates you, because of Alicia.

 

Tolerates is even probably too strong a word.

 

From the very first moment Alicia inches her forward, they fight for Elyza’s right to be there.

 

“Mom,” Alicia says, an uncharacteristic shyness in her voice. “This is Elyza Lex. She’s my…I mean…”

 

She breaks off, but the implication is clear, and warmth floods you, even without hearing the actual words.

 

Her brother lets out a wolf whistle and Madison drags her into a room on the docked ship you found them on.

 

They stay there for a long time, and while you hope it’s going well for Alicia’s sake, there are raised voices and every instinct in you screams to get in there, to protect Alicia.

 

They come out an hour later, and it’s tense but you’re staying.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

You wouldn’t leave anyway. You’ve vowed to never lose her again, to not waste this second chance.

 

And you get to have her with you and that’s not enough but it’s good.

 

She slides into your bed at night. Her feet are cold and she tells you to warm her up. You hold her as tightly as you have ever held anyone and you know you’re never letting go. You are all rationed a certain amount of food and some days she forces you to take her portion because she says you’re too thin.

 

(It’s ironic because she’s most willowy, slight person you’ve ever met.)

 

She wants you. She loves you.

 

(she doesn’t say it, not with words, but you know)

 

She doesn’t like to be separated from you.

 

It’s fine, you don’t like to be separated from her either.

 

You’re always touching in some way, pinkies, feet, sometimes she bumps others out of the way so she can sit beside you and your insides flood with warmth.

 

( _you just need her to remember you)_

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s good, but it’s never enough for Madison Clark.

 

She doesn’t trust you, and by extension, neither do the rest of Alicia’s family. You can see it. You can feel it.

 

You force yourself to ignore the sense of foreboding in your stomach, even when every instinct is screaming at you.

 

So you suppose, you have only yourself to blame when they corner you in a rare alone moment, on an even rarer trip to the shore.

 

Alicia has been occupied with Ofelia, the young woman you’ve come to genuinely like.

 

You don’t put it past them to have planned that.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

You try to fight them off, you really do, but they are too many of them and you didn’t see them.

 

 

They drive you out, and you try to scream but they hold a pillow over your face and muffle it.

 

You try to fight but there are too many of them.

 

You try to untie yourself but they reinforce the rope with metal handcuffs that dig into your skin and draw blood.

 

And when they finally stop, they tie a gag around your mouth, tie your limbs together, and throw you out.

 

( _they are taking you away from her)_

* * *

 

Her brother passes a gentle hand over your hair, mumbles an apology.

 

“ _Nick,” his mother snaps. “You agreed to this. She’s distracting Alicia. We can’t trust her._

They leave you there.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

And of course, the rumblings that surely mean walkers start not a few hours later, when you can’t untangle yourself and yet again, you are alone.

 

You comfort yourself with the fact that at least you got to see her one more time.

 

You hope they kill you quickly. Becoming one of them would be worse than dying a thousand times over.

 

And when they approach you, you close your eyes and picture her voice, her hair, her smile, and you smile too as your eyes close.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It would figure that not even death is peaceful.

 

No, death sees your head snapping to the side, the light assaulting your eyes.

 

“Fuck off,” you growl, almost as an instinct, batting your arms at the offending person.

 

And it is certainly not death that gives a relieved laugh and rasps “I still say I’ve saved your ass way more times than you’ve saved mine.”

 

That voice. That voice you know well.

 

Your eyes crack open, just a touch, and then there are soft hands passing over your face, and in pain though you are, you’re sure this is heaven, and you’ve thought it before, but now you’re sure. She’s actually an angel.

 

She’s cut one of your hands free, and you lift it and stroke her cheek.

 

“ _Ai hod yu in_ ”, you breathe, and it’s the truest thing you’ve ever said.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As with everything between you, the moment lasts just that.

 

And then you’re not quite free, and you didn’t see the walkers, and Alicia’s family is pulling her away from them, but they’re pulling you towards them, and surely you can’t get out of this twice.

 

You can’t fault the Clarks for wanting to keep Alicia safe when that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

 

But you were so close, so _close_ , and Clarke Griffin screams at you to fight, to fight for you, to fight for _her_.

 

Your mind is so very loud, and the walkers growl, and you swore you wouldn’t do this but you can’t control it, can’t keep it in anymore.

 

They drag you away and they are taking you away from her, and you fight but there’s too many of them, and there are people calling her, and they call her Alicia but the word rips from your throat anyway because you need her, you need her so much.

_“Lexa!”_

 

She stares at you. You lock your eyes on the green of hers, swimming with emotion.

 

The whole world stops for those few seconds, as green pierces blue, as the earth meets the sky, and the world is quiet.

 

And when it comes back, it only reminds you of the one constant in this life.

 

_She doesn’t know you._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You have nothing.

 

You stop fighting.

 

But then.

 

“ _…Clarke?”_ It’s barely a whisper, but you hear it.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

And then she’s ripping them from your arms.

 

 

One by one, she grabs a spare knife and decapitates them with the skill of a practiced warrior, like it’s nothing, like an instinct.

 

 

 

You’re free before you realize it and you fling yourself at her and it’s Lexa, she’s here.

 

“ _Clarke_ ,” she breathes. “Clarke, hodnes...”

 

She lifts her hands to your face and wipes away the tears you hadn’t seen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You are Clarke.

 

And you are Elyza.

 

And they are both so, _so_ happy right now, but there is that tiny seed of doubt.

 

(There always is.)

 

“Prove it,” you breathe. “Tell me something only Lexa would say.”

 

She smiles, she really _smiles_ and she is so beautiful it nearly kills you.

 

She helps you up and drops to one knee.

 

(You can’t breathe.)

 

She takes your bloodied hand.

 

( _in love, may you find the next)_

“I swear fealty to you, Clarke kom Skaikru. I vow to treat your needs as my own, and your people as my people.”

 

* * *

 

 

 ** _“I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…_** **** __  
  
In life after life, in age after age, forever.  
  
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,  
  
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,  
  
In life after life, in age after age, forever.“  
  
-Rabindranath Tagore

 


	2. alicia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And you’d thought (you’d stupidly thought) you were at all capable enough to get off the ship and go on a supply run. You’d somehow got it inside your head that if things went south, you’d be remotely capable of defending both yourself and Nick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, guys. First of all, thank you so much for all the comments, bookmarks, faves, etc. Truly, Elyza Lex and Alicia Clark take me forever to write but I love them. 
> 
> Also, I had always planned on two chapters, one for each POV, but Alicia’s took me FOREVER to write, and I rewrote a bunch so I could switch it to 2nd person, like Elyza’s was. I’ll say this, despite having never watched FTWD (I tried, guys. I couldn’t get past one episode), Alicia is SO much fun to write. 
> 
> Also, coming down the pipeline there may be a canon universe Clexa story. It was honestly this conversation that played out in my head
> 
> Rational me: writing takes you forever and you’re never satisfied with what you write and writing for Clexa hurts you
> 
> Also me: okay but: clexa wherein Clarke comes down first, so you don’t have to include any of her “people”
> 
> Rational me:…..I will allow it. 
> 
> So yeah. Be on the lookout for that. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this. I’ve stuck some of my favorite Buffy quotes in there because I love them.

**But I want you to know I did save you. Not when it counted, of course, but…after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again, do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times, lots of different ways.**

**Every night I save you.**

 

 

* * *

 

Look, things in your life pretty much sucked. And the worst kind of sucked, they sucked with no hope of getting better in the offing.

 

Life had become less what it used to be (Matt, fighting with your mother, annoying Travis, pretending Nick didn’t exist) and more about just surviving.

 

And you’d thought (you’d _stupidly_ thought) you were at all capable enough to get off the ship and go on a supply run. You’d somehow got it inside your head that if things went south, you’d be remotely capable of defending both yourself and Nick.

 

Which is how you now find yourself cowering in the corner of a gas station minimart, alone, making yourself as small as possible so that the walker doesn’t turn its wet growls on you.

 

It was, you assume, the smartest thing to do, given the situation.

 

And here’s the thing – normal as Alicia Clark purports to be (you _are_. Have you seen your family?), there’s been these…moments. Since you can remember, you see things when you close your eyes. Flashes, memories, someone who is you but isn’t, rumblings of words in a language you don’t recognize.)

 

You’ve pushed it down as long as you can possibly remember, but it feels like a beast inside of you, hungrier with every new vision, just waiting to claw out.

 

So you push it down further, because Alicia Clark has bigger things to worry about. Like how to keep from being very, very eaten by cowering in a corner, alone at a gas station minimart (again, it seems like the safest move).

 

Evidently, not to everyone, because the door opens and you see a flash of blonde jet inside the door. You hear the cooler doors open, and is this person stupid or suicidal?

 

 

* * *

 

 

You’re more than a little proud that you manage to swing the bat at a hard enough angle to kill the walker (again).

 

You clean the brains of the baseball bat with a rag you find behind the counter, and the girl introduces herself as Elyza Lex, “badass zombie hunter extraordinaire”.

 

Everything in your survival instincts tells you not to trust this complete stranger, and you must not have listened, because an hour later you’re on the back of said stranger’s bike, heading to god knows who’s house in god knows where.

 

(It seems comparatively safe, and it’s where you spend the next week, amid copious sarcastic retorts and eye rolls on your part.)

 

* * *

 

Elyza is the most confident, flirtatious person you’ve ever met. She openly checks you out and more often calls you “doll” or “cupcake” than your actual name.

 

And sometimes you blush and you don’t know why.

 

Being around Elyza feels…different. You can’t really explain why. It’s just different. Familiar, somehow. Comfortable.

 

 

* * *

 

Elyza always insists you take the bed.

 

She’ll gather some blankets on the ground, say something along the lines of _you feel free to come down here if you get cold, cupcake_ and drop off to sleep.

 

Except she isn’t sleeping.

 

You discover that one night when she wakes up what you’d estimate is only about an hour after she falls asleep.

 

Usually a heavy sleeper, a muffled noise wakes you.

 

You can’t quite believe the source at first.

 

You shift carefully and peers down at your companion.

 

Elyza is shaking. She’s crying. Her face is muffled by the pillow, but you can see, even in the dark room, her shoulders heave and she is sobbing something into her pillow. You strain to hear.

 

“ _Lexa. Lexa, please…no, not her! Come back, Lexa, come back!”_

 

Something you don’t understand inside you breaks, aches to comfort this relative stranger.

 

And that name, it triggers something on its own.

 

_What’s your name?_

_Lexa._

 

* * *

 

Something feels…. different about Elyza. It’s something about the way the older girl’s eyes train on you, as if she’s searching for something.

 

And the way you want to give it to her, but you have no idea what it is.

 

You’re separated from your family. They’re dead, for all you know, and you’re left with this girl who you know nothing about and it shouldn’t be comfortable but it is.

 

You understand so little about anything nowadays.

 

All you know is you saved this girl from a walker, this girl took you in and you’re reluctantly grateful.

 

 

* * *

 

You’re a hypocrite.

 

No, really.

 

You’re a hypocrite, because you accuse Elyza of crying every night, of going somewhere else in her mind, and you say nothing of yourself.

 

You see the pain in Elyza’ entire body, her whole being screaming out for someone she sees in you, and block her out.

 

All the while, in _your_ dreams, your own kohl-rimmed eyes stare at you and you wake up feeling for the delicate braids in your hair and it feels like you but it’s not and you don’t understand it.

* * *

 

 

You can’t tell Elyza.

 

(What would she even say? You don’t understand what’s storming inside of you, why should this stranger?)

* * *

 

 

Sometimes, Elyza looks at you like she’s trying to will memories into you, like she is dying to see that person she loves in you, but you _aren’t her._

 

And there are times where you’ll say thing to Elyza, things that pop into your head from places you can’t quite see, and they make Elyza’s whole face darken with sadness.

 

You hate seeing Elyza like that, but you also hate having all this that you don’t understand inside you.

 

* * *

 

You’re straight.

 

You had a boyfriend.

 

You like boys.

 

You kiss Elyza, one day, when you can no longer ignore the voice, that same one that feeds on the scraps of memories, that screams at you to _kiss her, kiss her_.

 

Really, you don’t know anything.

 

You don’t know anything except kissing Elyza feels more right than anything, so you do.

 

 

* * *

 

And when you figure that out, you kiss the arrogant smirk right off her stupid face.

 

(The next day, you kiss her again. And then again, and again, until one day you don’t stop and that tiny pocket of peace you find in her arms would be enough for you forever, you think.)

 

* * *

 

 

They find your family on a boat and you are ecstatic.

 

(Ecstatic, but you do notice the way Elyza’s fingers slacken just slightly in yours, as if she’s already preparing to let go).

 

So you pull the girl forward and introduce her and fight with your mother for Elyza’s right to stay.

 

_You said we were only taking necessary people._

_Yes, I did._

_She’s my people, mom. She’s staying._

* * *

You patrol together one day, two months after you meet, by your estimation

 

You raid an old WalMart and you’d think by now you would have stopped panicking as soon as the door opens and you hear footsteps on the floor but you never do.

 

Elyza shoves you behind her, ever the self-sacrificing idiot you love so.

 

_Whoa. Love?_

 

You hear no growls but walkers can be sneaky as they seek their prey.

 

Elyza lowers her gun with a shocked exhale first, and you follow on instinct, because you trust her.

 

They’re not walkers.

 

(Shouldn’t that be a good thing?)

 

It’s a man and a woman.

 

Imagine your surprise when two pairs of eyes attached to actual living people, an older man and woman, scan Elyza up and down, before the woman pulls her into a tight embrace and Elyza doesn’t fight it.

 

“You’re here,” the woman breathes into the girl’s hair. “We found you.”

 

Elyza grips the woman’s leather jacket so tightly her fingers turn red. “I’m here.”

 

_Clarke?_

_I’m here._

 

 

* * *

 

You’re surprised to see tears in Elyza’s eyes as she pulls away

 

You touch Elyza’s arm lightly and the girl laces your fingers together, pulling you face to face with the two strangers.

 

( _Why do you feel like you’re meeting the parents?)_

 

* * *

 

“Guys, this is Alicia.”

 

Paige looks her up and down as well, eyes opening in shock.

 

“Elyza, she’s….”

 

“No.” The word is firm, rough, fraught with sorrow and regret.

 

Alicia doesn’t understand and Elyza doesn’t offer.

 

The woman is Paige, you learn. And the man, Henry.

 

Two people that seem to simultaneously make Elyza light with happiness and warmth, and cause the most wrenching of pain to fill her eyes.

 

You yearn to know more, but Elyza says nothing.

 

They’re staying near to here, they tell her. They’ve stolen a set of radios and they give one to Elyza.

 

“So we don’t lose you again,” they tell her.

 

She holds it like it’s the most precious thing she’s ever been given, which alone makes you steal her a jacket so she has a pocket to hide it in. Nobody will take this from the girl who has so little. You vow it.

 

* * *

 

It’s weird for Chris.

 

You don’t really know why, only knows that he avoids both you and Elyza like you are actually poisonous.

 

To be fair, you and Chris were never what you would call close to begin with, but nonetheless, you don’t understand why he suddenly can’t even be in the same room as either of you.

 

The two of you are not often outwardly affectionate, but you are always touching in some way. Pinkies linked (like 12-year-old schoolgirls, you know), feet twisted around each other’s, holding hands, any way you can be touching, you usually are.

 

It gives you a sense of satisfaction to see how your touch seems to calm Elyza, particularly because the older girl carries so much pain that she will never show.

 

You’re not sure at first but by the second week you _definitely_ catch him mumbling some choice words under his breath.

 

Your heart beats a frantic tattoo and you are so furious, but Elyza is so amazingly, devastatingly calm.

 

And as the one widely regarded as the calmer of the two, you are confused.

 

She lets him say these horrible things and unless he says anything about Alicia in general, Elyza lets it go.

 

You ask her why one day, and Elyza turns to you with a sad smile.

 

“This is one world you’re new in, cupcake, but I’ve been here awhile. Trust me, I’ve heard worse.”

 

It hits you all at once: this is normal to her. She’s used to being judged like this.

 

You fold Elyza into her arms and she links her pinkie to yours.

 

You whisper something about forever, and you’re not sure why.

 

The next time you see Chris mumble something about either of you, you break his nose and you are proud of it.

 

 

* * *

 

They give you separate rooms, and you very nearly laugh.

 

Elyza has cold feet. You warm her every night.

 

And the flashbacks don’t stop, they only get stronger.

 

_Death is not the end._

 

And the suspicious looks from your family don’t stop, but you will keep her safe. You promise her forever, promise it every night, and you will not break that promise.

 

She’s the only forever you’ve known.

 

* * *

 

And then one day, you break from conversation with Ofelia and they tell you she’s gone.

 

And Strand’s ship is not big, yet you can’t find her.

 

* * *

 

You laugh. That’s your first reaction.

 

You ask your mother, and really, that’s when you know.

 

Madison tells her Elyza left and she has to physically restrain herself from laughing.

 

Because Elyza would never leave. She promised.

 

They had lain in bed together and forever didn’t mean much in this world but Elyza had promised and Alicia believed her and she wouldn’t have just _left_.

 

* * *

 

Nick avoids her as soon as she sees him and that’s her first clue.

 

So you hold a gun on him,

 

She holds a gun on her brother. She’s desperate, moreso than she has been in her entire life.

 

But he will tell you where she is. You don’t care what it takes.

You shove him onto Elyza’s bike and hold a gun to his throat and tell him to take you to her.

 

He does, because maybe he feels some twisted sense of guilt.

 

* * *

 

She’s in the middle of the road.

 

This is in a highly visible area. Walkers are everywhere and you’ve brought few weapons, but nothing, _nothing_ matters more than getting her back.

 

She’s limp, exposed. Your skin burns at the thought that your own family did this to her, tried to take her away from you.

 

It’s not just your bodies that are entwined, you know. It’s your very souls.

 

The betrayal knifes you, but keeping Elyza safe is your only priority right now.

 

* * *

  

She’s unconscious. You pass your hands over her face, speak softly to her, until those blue eyes that save you over and over finally open.

 

You mutter something about having to save her too much, but really, you’d save her over and over, forever, if it means that’s how long you get.

 

She smiles and your world rights a little.

 

You hear your family pulling up behind you first.

 

You say “first”, because it’s quickly followed by another, much worse sound.

 

(Well, worse at least. Your spine stiffens and you can’t look at the people who betrayed you so).

 

You know those growls. You hasten to free Elyza but you’re not fast enough.

 

_You’re not fast enough_.

 

They’re coming. They’re coming and your family is pulling you away, so you can’t save her. You fight but you can’t save her, and the look on her face is so very _resigned_ , but her eyes scream out for you, and then she says it.

 

“Lexa!”

 

* * *

 

Lexa.

 

_What’s your name?_

  
_Lexa._

 

Those green eyes pierce your mind, your mind which races through two lives.

 

_We want the same things, Clarke_.

 

_Clarke of the Sky People._

_Ai gonplei ste odon._

_Yu nou trana bash op Klark nodotaim nowe. Swega em klin._

_You will never again harm Clarke._

* * *

It’s you, but it’s not.

 

You are Lexa, and you are Alicia.

 

You are both.

 

* * *

 

It’s a whisper, so unbefitting of the situation in front of you.

 

“….. _Clarke?_ ”

 

* * *

 

And then you’re tearing through the walkers with a stolen knife and it feels like nothing, just as natural as breathing, as if you’ve done it forever.

 

* * *

 

She’s crying.

 

She’s looking at you.

 

And oddly, you think of your first words to each other, in a time where the world forced you apart.

 

_You’re the one_.

 

* * *

 

In the After, Clarke is safe.

 

For now, and always. You swear it. You swear it as you made Titus swear that Clarke was never to be harmed again.

 

He was your family, in that time. But sometimes, family is only a starting point.

 

You think that’s a brief comfort as you pack what little you and Elyza own and radio Henry and Paige.

 

You’ll be staying with them, now.

 

You can’t stay somewhere Elyza isn’t safe, because she’s part of you.

 

She tries to talk you out if it, but you won’t hear it, and her feeble voice suggests that maybe Lexa came back quicker than she expected.

 

* * *

 

In the After, the world is still shit.

 

You live on a boat for three years, until the epidemic dies out, only going out for supply runs.

 

And you see your family again, but it’s never the same.

 

Paige and Henry become your family.

 

And Elyza. _Clarke_.

 

As the first scraps of the world begin to knit themselves back together, you cling to the family you found, because it’s another chance. Another try.

 

A maybe someday that has actually come to pass.

 

Clarke squeezes your hand, and you know it’s because of her.

 

She’s hope, to you.

 

_That’s why I love you._

* * *

 

**Can we rest, now? Can we rest?**

 

 

 

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> yeah.


End file.
